Can't Let Go
by OTPForLife
Summary: One day Natasha Romanoff decides to go on a mission alone and she never does come home from that. She doesn't come home alive. She leaves behind a broken Clint Barton, her sudden departure was impossible to accept. For both of them. Clint starts to think he's going insane when he begins hearing her voice. Natasha eventually has to decide whether or not to let go.
1. Chapter 1

Everyone crowded in Clint's small apartment, some with small plates of food in their hands and wine in glasses. Black was everywhere and the people who knew Natasha had red eyes. Clint Barton was far worse, his eyes red from crying and drinking too much. His suit was slightly messed up and his blond hair stuck up in random places from him running his hands through it. People would walk up to him and say "comforting" words to him.

"She's in a better place, Barton." One person said.

"She's happily watching over you from above." another said.

"She's not suffering any more." A third person said.

It was at that moment, Clint stormed off to the bathroom to get away from everyone; it was a couple hours after Natasha's funeral and everyone was over at their house to honor her memory. Everyone kept saying the same thing, _"She's in a better place. She's watching over you. She's not suffering."_ It was all the same and sounded the same to him, sometimes just sounding bland and meaningless. To him it was like a song on replay, neverending.

Clint looked around the small bathroom and noticed Natasha's towel on the floor from where she left it before she left before the mission. He grabbed it and held it close to himself; he then buried his face in it and took a deep whiff of it. It smelled like Natasha.

"Hey, Clint, you in there?" A voice asked from the other side of the door, he threw the towel back on the floor and walked out, it was some random S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had been assigned to him to help him through Natasha's death. He walked away, not talking to anyone and just sat on the couch, listening to everyone talk about Natasha.

A few hours later, everyone left and he was finally alone. After finishing the cleaning up, he walked back to his bedroom and took off his suit. He was probably never going to wear it again, much less look at it, and pulled on a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt, and lied down. Sleep seemed impossible, ever since Natasha had left for her mission, he couldn't sleep, and would just lay in bed thinking. But tonight was different and he fell asleep, perhaps he was just too exhausted to stay awake.

"Hey, Clint, what's up" Natasha walked into the room and looked down at him. She was still in her Black Widow suit and her red hair was its usual wavy self. Clint jumped up from a deep sleep and looked around frantically, he had thought he heard her voice. "Dude, calm down, not like you to get jumpy." She chuckled and shook her head.

"Natasha?" He breathed, still thinking he heard her.

"Yeah, I'm over here." She said and waved, she had been standing at the foot of the bed.

Clint shook his head and lied back down, pulling the blanket over his face as tears fell down it. Natasha stood there, perplexed by the way he was acting. She knew he had seen her, she was sure of it, at least she thinks she was.

"So, what, now you're ignoring me?" She laughed a little, thinking he was playing around with her. "Look, are you still angry with me because I wanted to do the mission on my own?" She asked and reached out and put a hand on Clint's shoulder. He jumped up again and looked around, tears running down his face.

"Nat?" He breathed again and continued looking around, still thinking he heard her.

Natasha stood in front of him and put her face inches from his. "Barton! I'm right here! Why aren't you listening to me?" She said in his face. Clint, yet again, lied back down and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Fine, be that way. I'm going to go sleep on the couch and watch the TV shows you don't like." She went for the door and yen turned to look back at him. "Wait, why am I the one who's going to go sleep on the couch? It should be you who sleeps on the couch." She scoffed and walked out, grumbling angrily.

Once in the living room, she sat on the couch, pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She then proceed to cry because she couldn't understand why her partner, lover, and most importantly best friend was ignoring her, and she had thought it was all her fault.

About two weeks after Natasha's funeral, Clint was sitting in a S.H.I.E.L.D. counselor's office, Couslon had seen he was out-of-character upset and made it mandatory for him. Coulson was worried that Clint was too depressed and needed someone to talk to. Clint wasn't happy with the idea.

"Now, Barton-"

"Agent Barton," he corrected his counselor, Jake.

"I think Barton will be fine," he said and started to get ready to write in Barton's file. "So, Agent Coulson said you've been upset the past week, that it's been really out-of-character for you."

"Of course I've been upset! My girlfriend, and best friend, was just killed less than three weeks ago!" He huffed, leaning back in his chair. Jake took notes on what Clint had said.

"Agent Coulson also said you've been hearing voices?"

"Oh my God, what else did he tell you?" He grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Just that you told him that you've been hearing Agent Romanoff's voice. Is that true?" Clint stayed quiet, not wanting to tell him because he would be deemed crazy and unfit to work in the field if he did tell. "Barton, you can tell me anything and, by law, I have to keep it private. The only reason I would have to tell someone is if I feel like you're going to hurt or kill yourself or others." Jake added.

Clint let out a deep sigh before speaking. "Yes, I sometimes feel as though I _am_ hearing her voice. Happy?"

Jake wrote that down, "What kinds of things do you hear?"

"Mostly just her making teasing jokes like she did all the time when she was alive."

"What kinds of jokes?"

"Mostly just her playfully calling me a moron and such."

"I see..." He kept writing what Clint said down. "Are you sleeping well at night?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

"No, I haven't been sleeping well, been getting two or three hours if I'm lucky."

"I see... Is there any sort of personal keepsake Agent Romanoff had? Heirloom? Special weapon she liked over the others? Pet?"

"Well there is her cat, Liho, that still roams the apartment. Why?"

"How do you treat the pet?"

"Are you actually suggesting that I would hurt an innocent animal?" Clint glared at him, completely dumbfounded that Jake would even suggest that he would hurt the cat. "Because that is a seriously wild accusation, I would never hurt Liho. Despite the fact I didn't really like it and the cat didn't like me, we still respected each other. I'm still going to take care of it, or else Tasha might come back from the dead and kill me herself."

"Well it wasn't unreadable if the cat reminds you of Agent Romanoff, then you might feel compelled to hurt it because it belonged to her." Jake said after he wrote it down.

"I would never hurt it, it did nothing wrong." Clint muttered.

"Are you then suggesting Agent Romanoff did something wrong then?"

Clint's eyes brows furrowed together, "What?" He restored, dumbstruck that he would even ask that. "Why in the hell are you even suggesting that? What is wrong with you?" He snarled and then stood up and went for the door. "I don't have to be here any more, do it?"

"We still have 45 minutes left, please sit back down. You have to stay here for one hour every other Friday or else we will have to choice but to disqualify you for field work." Clint huffed and sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thank you, now will you please answer my question: Are you suggesting Agent Romanoff did something wrong?"

"No, she didn't do anything wrong. Her mission just went bad and something happened that no one could predict."

"You originally wanted to go with her on the mission, correct?"

"Yes, I did, but she didn't want me too. I don't know why she didn't want me to, I tried to agure, but she wouldn't have it."

"What were your last words to her before she left for her mission?"

Clint looked down, then leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees and face in hands. He was quiet for a long time, during this time Jake had the opportunity to write down somethings. Clint looked back up, guilt had wracked through him and it was evident on his face and body poster. "Before she left the apartment, I told her she was being unreasonable and stupid. I told her that this mission was one she couldn't handle on her own and needed someone to help, that she just needed to suck up her pride and let me come with her." He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor. "However, before she left for the mission, I called her on her work phone. It, of course, went to voicemail, but I still left a message..." He trailed off.

Jake wrote down everything Clint had said, making sure he didn't miss anything. "What did you say to her in this message?"

"I told her that I love her very much and good luck. I also apologized for what I said and asked for her to forgive me."

"Did she get the message?"

"No."

They talked for the rest of the time, Clint going on and on about Natasha. Jake had eventually asked Clint to talk about his fondest memories of Natasha. He did, talking about everything that had to do with Natasha. At the end of the session, Jake gave Clint a prescription for an antidepressant. Clint went to refuse it at first, but then realized that they could take him off of field work if he didn't take it and that would drive him crazy if they did that.

Instead of going straight home, Clint got the meds and then went straight to the local bar. There he drank until he was asked to leave due to it closing and he went home. He stubbed up the stairs to his apartment and to his door. When he somehow managed to get his keys into the door and opened the door, he slammed it shut, not bothering to lock it and plopped down on the couch.

Natasha, who was sitting at the kitchen table looking at some files he left out, had watched him quietly. She got up and went over to sit down next to him. Natasha looked different than she did before, her hair had lighten in color softly, her skin tone had pailed, and there seemed to be a very faint glow on her.

"Drunk again? Isn't this your fifth time coming home drunk? I swear, Clint, you're turning into an alcoholic." She huffed, she was still extremity frustrated that he was ignoring her.

Clint had looked up, whenever he thought he heard her he had looked up and looked around. "No, it's all in your head, Barton." He would tell himself.

"Excuse me, but me talking to you is not in your head! Seriously, this has gone on for two weeks now, quit it!" Natasha watched as Barton got up and went into his bedroom. He saw Liho laying on the corner of the bed. He jumped up when Clint walked into the room and then snuggled against Clint when he passed out on the bed.


	2. Look at me!

After several days, Clint walked into the apartment late at night due to a small mission he had been assigned. Natasha now plate, a so thin her bones showed and she had almost no muscle mass on her, and a very ghost-like glow to her. Her color was practically gone from her hair, it now just a very faint orange, and her green eyes, now grey. She looked like a walking corpse.

"Clint, you're home. How was the mission? You take down the infamous drug lord from New York who had been also American trading secrets?" She smiled softly, her smile still held life, but her dead eyes just couldn't help covay it.

Clint right away put his dirty clothes into the washer and turned it on. He then hid all his fake ID's and other necessities into the hidden safe, in the floorboards under the rug which sat in the living room under a coffee table. He placed the coffee table carefully back into place, being sure to place the legs where they had made dents in the rug. He shoved his duffle bag into the closet and sauntered off to the bathroom, where he quickly removed his clothes and took a shower.

Natasha just sat there on the couch, hurt that he was ignoring her and even more hurt that she didn't know what she did wrong. At first she was blaming him, wondering what he did wrong and why he was choosing to ignore her. But know she knew that it was all her fault, that she did something horrible that made him hate her.

"He hates me and it's all my fault." She told herself, only it wasn't the first time she had told herself this. This was starting to become something she told herself multiple times a day.

A few minutes later, Clint came out of the bathroom and went into the bedroom. He quickly dried off and pulled on some clothes, which was basically black sweats and a dark grey S.H.I.E.L.D. shirt. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed some leftover cold pizza from the fridge along with a cold beer, went into the living room, and sat down. He turned on the TV and aimlessly flipped through the channels until he gave up and turned the news on.

After opening up his beer, he took a long sip and then ate a slice of pizza. Natasha just sat there and watched, tears forming and threatening to spill. She then wiped the tears from her face and looked over at him, a grin on her lips. She then nudged him, it was a game they would always play: Who can nudge the other harder. But, the thing is, Clint didn't even move, not one inch. Clint simply just rubbed the area where she had touched him.

"You're not real…" he muttered and Natasha's heart broke once again. "Hearing and feeling you now, is just plain childish." He added, since he had thought he was hearing and feeling her ghost touch him, he thought it was childish considering he didn't believe in ghosts.

"Now who's the child here!" Natasha snapped angrily and Clint's head turned slightly in her direction. "Yes, Clint, I'm right here! Please, just answer me! I can't go on like this anymore!" She slowly fell to her knees and sat down on the floor in between the sofa and coffee table- she then proceeded to cry.

It wasn't one of those silent cries or even any form of a pretty cry, it was a ugly cry. She sobbed, tears pouring down her face, snot in small globs, and a little spit escaping her lips. She breathed heavily, near hyperventilating and her breath hitched. She kept repeating the same words over and over again: "Clint, pay attention, please." She stayed like this for quite awhile and the worst part was, Clint didn't even move from his spot, he just sat there, watching TV and eating pizza and drinking a beer.

After Clint was finished eating, he put away his plate and threw the empty beer bottle in the bin he used for recycle. He went back into the bedroom and got under the covers. Natasha just sat there and watched, her red hair stuck to her wet, tear-stained face. Natasha pushed her hair from her face and stood up on shaky legs. She walked back to the bedroom and sat at on the edge of the bed, looking down at him.

"Honestly, I don't know what I did do to piss you off so much." She said through a shaky voice, her lower lip quivering. Her eyes were red and swollen, tear streaked down her cheeks. "And if I did do something wrong, if I did piss you off, I am so sorry." She said and stood up, she kissed Clint on the forehead and walked out.

Clint had reacted to the feel on Natasha's lips against his forehead, but, like always, he just shrugged it off and didn't pay attention. Natasha, still hurt by him ignoring her, she plopped down on the sofa and started to cry again. When Liho had walked by the sofa, Natasha suddenly sat up and wiped the tears from her face.

"Liho, come here, boy." She clicked her tongue a few times and held out her hand to try to coax the cat to come over to her. But he just kept walking into the bedroom where he snuggled up next to Clint. Natasha was heart broken and the tears fell once again. "Even my own cat is ignoring me and I didn't do anything to him." Natasha stood up and walked out of the apartment, walking down the stairs, and down the sidewalk.

As she walked, Natasha's mind was a swarm of questions and wondering what was going on. Natasha saw some people walking down the sidewalk and walking toward her. She ran up to them and stood in front of them.

"Hey! Can you hear me?!" They just walked passed her as if they didn't hear her. As more and more people walked past her, she kept yelling things at them, wondering if they could hear her or even see her. It didn't work, people just kept walking past her and ignoring her. Natasha eventually just walked back to the apartment and saw Clint walking from the living room to the bedroom.

Clint just curled up under the blankets, Liho slumbering at his feet. Natasha walked to the bedside, looking at the two.

"Please, Clint, look at me! Just look at me! Talk to me, because I just can't figure out what I did to make you angry with me. I'm so, so sorry if I did anything wrong, but please just talk to me. I can't take this anymore." She said, pleading and tears streaming down her face. Clint, as always, just kept going about what he was doing, and that was sleeping. Natasha gulped and walked around to the other side of the bed and laid down next to him.

"Clint, I love you."

"I love you, Natasha." He said before falling asleep. Natasha looked over at him, wondering if maybe, just maybe he heard her.


End file.
